Time is ticking... As I lay here in empty silence Im reminded.....
Of you Of her Of how you two deserve the better me. The me who doesn't need a buzz, who can be there and give you 2 love. I will admit....this feeling of being alone feels normal now but I still remember your touch. As time ticks by... That's all for now.....The thought of you is to much.
His back was slightly hunched, but not to the extent that a stranger would notice. His lip jutted forward, like an animal edging towards a precipice. He used his voice instrumentally. His clothes were generic. People would not remember him after a fleeting meeting, he was not regarded as a charismatic man. He was born in Gateshead, England, although his name was Schultz.
He entered the hotel with minimal fuss, neutrally. Schultz did everything with the air of a man who wished to leave no trace after him, unaware that he was being pursued and plans were in place to put an end to his existence. The youth at the reception desk, looked out of place, exceedingly handsome but in an androgynous way. It was very difficult to read the youth. He was all function. 'I have a reservation'' the youth opened his mouth to respond as the chandelier fell. The impact was fatal. A noteworthy end to a monotone man.
I travel all over the state Different jobs, never the same hotel Always alone in my bed This week I reddened from the sun First visit to the beach Mini vacation to forget what’s in my head Then I invite him in my room Both drunk from downing cheap spirits Scared of the outcome I still say come in We watch tv and make small talk An hour passes and we lay side by side He looks at me and we both know Under the influence our smiles match A touch of my leg, his hand is gentle We hug and he leaves for his room Not ten minutes pass and I invite him back All I offer is to cuddle My face still warm from the burn I changed to shorts and a cropped sweater He joins me back and lays in my bed His arm is comforting around me Turning to look at him I realize he’s not who I have been seeing He is all the bad But also good that he hides I can’t remember if I did or if he did We lean in and his lips are soft His tongue opens my smile and I accept it Fitting perfectly in his side I wrap around His legs entangled with mine Pulling me closer he grabs me tenderly It’s another man in love with someone else Yet here I am being held in his strong arms Falling back, I remind him of his other Admitting it’s complicated we just hold each other A silent kiss is shared once more He escapes back The feeling of his hands rubbing my back echos my mind Kissing my forehead while my eyes are closed, it remains We’ll act as if it never happened I’ll live with the memory and try to hate him less at work Now back home we go What a trip.
Im not sure what is happening but I’m just going with it all.
I'm awake Wide awake at 12 in the morning Ready for my eyes to be heavy with sleep, but instead my eyes are heavy with tears
While my family is sleeping in the bed next to mine
I lay still and empty of life as not to wake them at 12 in the morning, when the world itself is not even up yet
I can't sleep to much on my mind and not enough energy in place to turn down the voices in my head that are keeping me up past time to be sleeping. Have a good night or day depending on where you are and hopefully you get enough sleep❤
my bedroom/airports/empty reception rooms/anywhere at 2 am vacant parking lots hospitals at midnight museum waiting lines in the early morning schools during break late night supermarket runs waiting for the bus at 5 am walking down the cobblestone streets at 6 am gas stations at dawn unfamiliar McDonalds on long road trips
their buzzing electricity is my alternate reality. stretching across my view with reckless abandon.
White sheets flutter... they dance around the room they whip and crack like storm-kissed sails I cower in fear, my bed is empty save for pillows.
I rest my head I'm nearly dead I ache with dread I crumble, like abandoned bread and the table we set is unwoven by time. Splinters, like loose thread, pile up as do bones. We are no longer held together by compassion, we are butchered by sharp tongues and piercing glares, for shame! We thought it was a funhouse, but we revel in slaughter.
White sheets flutter... they wave like sleeping flags they wave like quaking lands then they settle and I hear the white sheets whisper and the whispers haunt me are they soaked by old lovers tears like oceans raining into the sky blood like rivers escaping the bed bowels of deceit coughing up their secrets let us drink all this vile bile and be drunken by horrors.
Is that the only way we can escape?
Not sure how all the ideas came together or where the inspiration was derived. I just had a thought: "What if our bed sheets were ghosts? What would they say?"
There I was. Loitering in the lobby of her heart, after a long flight the only thing on my mind was rest. The aroma was nice, stepping in through the double doors. Following the stretch of carpet to the front desk. Air conditioner stationed right above the door soon as you walked in. Almost feeling myself sink into the splash of a fresh comforter. I stood at the front counter waiting to be checked in. Didn't quite feel like home. The longer I waited the more anxious I became. Messing around with the pen chained to the desk. Making circles and snake like motions with the chain. Noticing the dust under one of those small relaxation fountains at the closest end of the receptionist's desk. The hum growing louder signifying that the water needed to be refilled. More interesting. There were no vacancies. Good that I made reservations a month before time. Noticing the aquarium over by the elevator. There I stood loitering in the lobby. Patiently waiting. After a while, it sinks in that all lobbies are the same. An endless void of waiting. Was it absurd that I envied the fish watching me from the aquarium. It's a strong possibility that he fell asleep watching me wait as the receptionist hasn't quite made it back yet
I'm filtering you through the crack of light that universally seeps through all hotel room doors at the tender hour of 3am. That is to say, this isn't a sonnet of love Or an overly romanticized image of a 21st century youth, This is realism In that I am trying to process everything around me like it will disappear tomorrow Sipping tepid cola watching the day fade through the trees Losing track of time or when the hell I'm supposed to be anywhere Because lately I've been going no where Tracing my veins and driving in circles around your block Trying to remind myself that though we live in an infinite universe, And though we are all alone in our own skin we're still connected through the cracks in the concrete and the curve of the earth. And I think about all the river water I drank in trying to get to your shore All the time I've waisted hanging just outside your door And I know I tend to get stuck on the little things like the songs we sang or the arch of your foot But I'm just trying to ******* process you so I don't have to spend one more night on my best friends couch staring at my skin wondering where all the time went, Wondering if I had cleaned up a little better then my mind wouldn't be so spent So I'm staring into the light coming through the hotel door at 3am so I can filter you out of my chest and onto paper So if I disappear tomorrow I can know your memory for today.